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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647999">Spoons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkivist/pseuds/TheDarkivist'>TheDarkivist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Humor, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:07:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkivist/pseuds/TheDarkivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin Reed had more issues than Vogue, Connor knew that much. But even so the human still found new ways to surprise him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spoons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The precinct was never completely silent, but the noise levels would ebb and flow from one hour to another. In that sense, the building had its melody, with slight variations that drew attention to themselves. The break room had its own part in that composition. The soft whirring of the poor coffee machine that never got a moment of respite. The creaking of uncomfortable chairs. Footsteps on the tiled floor. One, two, three steps, a slight pause as the person entering avoided a cracked tile. A clearing of a throat.</p>
<p>“Tin can.”</p>
<p>“Detective Reed.”</p>
<p>Connor glanced over his shoulder, acutely aware of the other’s presence. Things had calmed down somewhat between them, but that was mostly because they took great care to avoid each other. The android carefully set down the worn paperback he picked up in a second-hand bookstore the day before. He didn’t quite <em>get</em> reading just for the sake of it yet, but it gave him something to do during his lunch break. He put his hands down on the cover, hiding the title without realising it. He looked up, his expression perfectly neutral.</p>
<p>“May I help you, detective?”</p>
<p>“Spoons.”</p>
<p>Connor blinked. “Pardon?”</p>
<p>“Spoons. I’m looking for spoons. You know what a spoon is, right? So that’s what I want. A fuckin’ spoon.” Gavin crossed his arms over his chest, staring Connor down with far more intensity than a spoon could possibly warrant.</p>
<p>The android looked at the counter. It was cluttered, as per usual, but even so he could see the chipped mug full of coffee spoons of all ages and sizes. Was that some kind of a prank? Connor nodded in the direction of the counter, maintaining eye contact.</p>
<p>“Yes, spoons. Just what I was looking for.”</p>
<p>With that, Gavin left the break room again, without taking a single one. Connor’s eyes followed him for a few moments, then he filed this incident to the ‘let’s pretend this never happened’ folder, and went back to his book.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sharp winter light poured into the building through every window, but failed to make it feel any warmer. There was glare on every screen, and glare on every face. Too cold for Connor. He even set aside his embarrassment and put on the lumpy blue fingerless gloves, and lumpier blue sweater he made when he moved on from reading to knitting. That hobby was promptly abandoned and he couldn’t even look at a skein of yarn without a vague yet persistent sense of frustration. Of course, Nines excelled at it.</p>
<p>A paper plane hit his forehead.</p>
<p>Connor looked up, and his eyes met Gavin’s. Detective Reed had his feet on his desk, arms crossed over his chest, but he looked anything but relaxed when he watched the android. He seemed tense, as if awaiting his reaction. Connor picked up the airplane. Gavin nodded slowly. Connor unfolded the piece of paper and found a surprisingly good drawing of a round object with some sort of a handle… a spoon. Pictures, as opposed to photographs, sometimes took Connor a second to process. The more stylised the image, the more time he needed.</p>
<p>His eyebrows shot upwards without him really noticing, but Gavin nodded again, and went back to his work. Connor smoothed down the picture, looking at it for a minute in a fruitless attempt to come up with an explanation for detective Reed’s bizarre behaviour. Not that he missed the hostility, no, but that at least was easy to interpret.</p>
<p>He placed the sheet of paper into a pile of documents to be dealt with, and tried to focus on his actual job. Yet the mystery refused to be pushed aside as easily as the first time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
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</p>
<p>
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<p>There was a remarkable volume of information on spoons Connor managed to access, but nothing that would shed any light on detective Reed’s cryptic behaviour. He was beginning to suspect the human was just fucking with him. Yet, while he didn’t doubt Reed’s intelligence (they didn’t let you be a detective if you were <em>both</em> a dick and an idiot), it wasn’t in line with his normal behaviour. That is to say, detective Reed had a modus operandi for being an insufferable asshole, and the spoon incidents didn’t fit into it. That was the problem with humans – the inconsistency.</p>
<p>Connor kept the drawing.</p>
<p>He forgot all about it three days later, when he was wrapping up the paperwork, staying late so Hank could get to his AA meeting in time. Overtime didn’t bother him, at least nowhere near as much as it bothered the boss. There was something almost relaxing about taking him time slowly completing a simple task while it was dark outside already. There was a sense of accomplishment in it that the messy day-to-day affairs often lacked.</p>
<p>He wasn’t the only person staying late. Detective Reed could be observed leaving the break room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other. There were many reasons why he shouldn’t indulge in that combination, but Connor had the luxury of not needing to mention that. Reed was old enough to know better.</p>
<p>He didn’t walk to his desk, as expected, but made for Connor. The android set down his pen and sat up straighter, prepared to… well, at that point he didn’t really know what to expect.</p>
<p>“Hey, tin can?”</p>
<p>“Detective Smith?”</p>
<p>“That’s not my name and you know it.”</p>
<p>“Your point?”</p>
<p>Reed opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, since he couldn’t think of anything appropriately biting fast enough. (He thought of the <em>smartest </em>comeback later on, in the shower. The shampoo bottles was impressed, even the 2in1 shampoo and conditioner one.) He slipped the bar into his pocket, placed the mug down, and then leaned against the corner of Connor’s desk. The android looked utterly horrified, and if he wore any pearls, he would be clutching them.</p>
<p>“Seen any good spoons lately?” the human asked after a while.</p>
<p>Connor just about had enough. He wanted to say a swearword. He rested his face on his entwined fingers, looking up at the other detective. Two swearwords. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, detective. You know I don’t. You are cordially invited to either explain yourself, or fuck off.”</p>
<p>Reed shrugged, then went to his desk, and returned with his phone. For several minutes, he was scrolling down social media feeds, paying zero attention to the android, though he did occasionally take a sip of his coffee. He started nodding to himself, and his expression softened somewhat.</p>
<p>“Fine. I guess you’re all right.” Reed put the phone down and wrapped his hands around the mug. A peaceful, almost comforting scene, illuminated by pale orange light struggling to dispel at least some of the darkness. If both of them stayed quiet, Connor mused, they might get along.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m not getting any targeted ads for cutlery and kitchenware, so I guess you’re not selling anyone’s personal data,” the detective said quietly, looking somewhere over Connor’s left shoulder. “Kind of shocked, honestly.”</p>
<p>Had Connor not been a deviant already, he’d have deviated on the spot then and there. Of fucking course. Everyone knew that most electronic devices were spying on their users. There was some outrage, and then most people just… went on with their lives.</p>
<p>So Reed decided to keep mentioning an arbitrary item in front of Connor, and waited if the ads popping up around him started reflecting any of that. Somehow he managed to be clever and insulting at the same time – the human surely would perceive that as a bonus.</p>
<p>Connor stood up, put his hands on the desk and leaned forward, brown eyes fixed on that eminently punchable face.</p>
<p>“Detective Reed,” he started slowly, clearly enunciating each word, “I can’t stress this enough. Nobody wants <em>your</em> data.”</p>
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